


to breakeven, in five parts

by HGRising



Category: Football RPF, Real Person Fiction, Sports RPF
Genre: F/M, M/M, Open ended, Schweinski, but ultimately finished, covers about eleven years, i hope you guys enjoy it anyway, it took months to really complete, otp level: mein hase, sad but hopeful ending, so it's not going to be a walk in the park, ten years for this shit, there are some rushed parts and it doesn't flow but i'm not going to repeatedly edit 16K words...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 02:05:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4329642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HGRising/pseuds/HGRising
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lukas and Bastian are more than ‘just friends,’ but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re always playing lovers. Lukas goes through over a decade of thinking he knows what he wants, having what he wants, and realizing he doesn’t know anything at all. Except, he’s sure, at nineteen, he had it all. In this story, Lukas copes with not being nineteen anymore. </p><p>Yeah, you can be the greatest<br/>You can be the best<br/>You can be the King Kong banging on your chest</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Why do I always want to rewrite their story? Oh right. Because I’m obsessed. Let me drag you down this path with me. Some of you may recognize that the beginning is similar to ‘Twenty is Different When You’re Thirty.’ I thought it appropriate. I took a LOT of liberties with the timeline and whatnot. Oh, and happy birthday, lukas. You didn’t ask for this. You don’t want this. But, this is for you anyway. Caution, this fic is lukas-centric. Plot references but does not exactly follow real life events. Refresh often & check back as I'm probably going to update and edit for grammar and other things.

Noisemakers and excited screams deafened him as soon as he opened the door.

_Poldi! Happy Birthday!_

_Lukas, you—_

_Prinz Poldi—_

_Congratulations and good luck!_

_Our prince—_

The hands came next, passing him along, pushing and shoving, jostling and spinning him around until he was dizzy from excitement.

By the time he stumbled to the center of the room, the glittery curtain of confetti cleared enough to let him see more than a foot in front of him. His friends and family and everyone he seemed to have said hello to—verbal or not—had somehow gathered in his parents’ house, waiting around him in a tight and dense circle expectantly. People were stuffed to the rafters, and he, too, was expectant.

On cue, the lights dimmed, and they hushed as it got darker. From the kitchen, his mother entered ceremoniously, bearing a cake with his name. The cake itself was modeled after the national team’s jersey. Candles outlined the edges, daring anyone to come too close.

He thought about how he would finally get to wear the real one in a couple of days, hopefully play in one as well.

A prickling sensation grew behind his eyes; the pride burned in his veins so intensely that he had to turn away to blink back the emotions.

Balancing the cake in one hand and bending her son down to her, his mother kissed his cheek.

“My little _prinz_ ,” she gushed. Pinching his cheek when he tried to pull away, she continued, “Bah, already ashamed of this old woman.”

“Never, _mama_ ,” he denied dramatically, lifting and swinging her around at her waist.

“Careful! The cake!”

Agreeably, he put her down, took the cake from her, and lifted her again with his free arm.

Cupping his face with her newly freed hands, she laughed, “My _prinz_. It’s a little early,” she said as he let her down and picked up the cake again to place on the table waiting for its centerpiece. “But, you know. Happy Birthday.” She pinched his cheek again as he blew out the candles. “Did you make a wish?”

Lukas smiled bright despite the contrast of the dim lighting.

Her lashes hung wetly. “Never forget who you are and where you came from, ah?”

.

He had been thinking about his sendoff often, whenever he felt pathetically homesick. Nineteen and still getting homesick.

It might have been the nerves, too, that was making him feel that way. That way and worse.

He wanted to vomit.

There were so many people that were proud of him. So many people he could let down as they watched at home while he lived out what was once his dreams turn reality.

His foot tapped erratically against the uniform tiles of the dressing room floor, ready to get everything over with. To do or to die. He breathed deeply—in and out and again—staring down at his feet with his hands clenched together and shoulders sloping as he leaned forward, elbows digging into his thighs.

A strong and steady hand clasped his shoulder, and he looked up to face Miro.

His eyes crinkled as he smiled up at his senior teammate. Having Miro around helped with the homesickness at the very least.

“Nervous,” he stated.

Lukas nodded.

“You’ll do fine.”

“I have to do better than fine.” If anyone was hard on Lukas, Lukas was the hardest.

“You’ll do fine,” Miro repeated, clapping him on the back and smirking as he ruffled his hair.

“Fuck off, old man.”

“Youngsters these days,” he huffed, playing along. He slid off the bench to leave him alone to his thoughts, but he wasn’t alone for long.

As soon as Miro left, he felt someone else drop onto the bench beside him. Recognizing the shoes, he didn’t bother lifting his head.

“Hey, Schweini.”

From the corners of his vision, he could see the man dubbed ‘Schweini,’ but who actually christened Bastian, smile at his greeting.

“Nervous.”

He sighed at the second declaration. “Yeah. You?”

“Nah. Good chance we won’t even get to play.”

“And if we do?”

“We’ll figure it out. Not worried.”

He snorted.

“Yeah. C’mon. You pass it to me. I pass it to you. One of us scores. Easy as cake. Pie, if you’re into that.”

He ran his hand over his face. It was absurdly put, but he felt better anyway.

“You’re a mastermind, Schweini.”

“You think so?” He jumped onto the bench and took the opportunity to grab both of Lukas’ shoulders, bouncing on him and playfully pretending to wrestle him from above.

That was why Lukas hung out with Bastian. To all the people who thought they were polar opposites or couldn’t understand why they were so close, Lukas didn’t bother explaining himself. Being with Bastian was easy, and he made it easier for Lukas even when he was approximately half a wrong move away from showing everyone the little he’d managed to shove down from that morning’s breakfast.

Lukas let out a surprised _oomf_! when Bastian somehow managed to knock him onto his knees and then flat on his stomach as he fell on top of him. He only just got his bearings when a boot-clad foot nudged his head to the other side. Swatting the boot away, he glared up at the person above them. He had to shield his eyes from the crown of lights that surrounded the rude person’s head.

“They’re not dead!” The person called back to people Lukas couldn’t see, and Lukas recognized the voice. Oliver. “Just stupid. Really, really stupid,” he added with emphasis before walking off.

“C’mon,” Bastian grunted, getting off Lukas and nearly elbowing him in the crotch before extending a hand to help him up. “You coming?”

“Yeah,” he said, taking his hand in earnest. “Right behind you, Schweini.”

Two years later since their debut—they did, in fact, both get to play that day, subbed in the second half, and Lukas didn’t throw up until after the match—, they were still the upstart punks that made their teammates roll their eyes while they laughed behind their hands at their antics. However, being apart from Bastian so often, Lukas often appreciated the technological advancements that allowed them to stay in touch even between call ups. God bless phones and email.

Still, he appreciated seeing Bastian in person the most.

During their call up for one of the most important tournaments of their lives, the World Cup, they had been sitting in his hotel room on their ritualistic first night back to the national team—rather, they were playing games late at night per usual instead of getting rest before practice in the wee hours of the morning and without the cameras—, when Bastian decided to give Lukas a nickname. Lukas already had one, but this one was private apparently and exclusive to Bastian.

To everyone else, he was ‘Poldi,’ and to Bastian he was ‘Poldi,’ too, but he was also ‘Luki.’ He was also ‘dickhead,’ ‘idiot,’ ‘asshole’ among other things to Bastian, but he wasn’t going to split hairs.

When he called him ‘Luki,’ Lukas thought it was just the exhaustion making his mouth lax and speech slurred, but it happened again the next night, and Lukas accepted the new name.

He had dreams about that night, actually, and nights similar to it.

A warm breath tickled the small hairs on the back of his neck, and someone seemed to be saying ‘Luki’ over and over again. The voice was sweet, and the body above inviting. He stirred happily from his slumber when he heard his door creak open and assumed his dream was about to take a very real turn.

Instead, he got a camera shoved in his face and a pigheaded idiot trying to literally wake his ass up by slapping it.

He let out a longsuffering sigh when he had come to terms with his current situation, smiling for the camera and Bastian before burying his head into and under the blanket Bastian threw over him.

However, when Bastian jumped on him, he knew he couldn’t go back to sleep, which was well enough. The blonde apparition from his dream became somewhat disturbing when he thought about it more, and he banished it from his mind. He mumbled something as Bastian tried to tell the camerapeople that _he_ was the one with a chip addiction, like Bastian wasn’t the one who made him sneak out with him to the nearest convenience store when they finished their first stash. They only escaped discovery by the skin of their teeth and with the help of a very odd girl who only wanted them to hug—that is, for them to hug each other and not her—before letting them go with a promise not to tell anyone that she saw them. It was a very strange night but without consequence.

The camerapeople and Bastian shared a laugh before they left to set up to film breakfast and then practice, leaving the two of them alone in the room.

When the door closed again and Bastian shouted a promise to make sure Lukas got ready in time, Lukas felt compelled to pull down the sheets in defiance, completely aware and uncaring that just tighty-whities weren’t exactly appropriate in front of company. Although, he did briefly wonder what kind of rating the movie would get now.

“Come on, Sleeping Beauty. Get up.”

Just for the hell of it and because Bastian was being an ass, Lukas refused, turning away from him even as the bed dipped, and he could feel Bastian climbing on.

“Up, you lazy fucker. Up.”

Lukas was entirely prepared to keep the act up, which meant he was entirely _un_ prepared to have his ass slapped again.

He jumped out of bed and glared at Bastian, who didn’t bother hiding his amusement. Catching the clothes he threw at him, he dropped his glare and traded it in for a grin and tugged his pants and a shirt on. As they exited the room, Bastian pulled him into a headlock, shoving his head into his side.

“So, tighty-whities, eh? Too bad you weren’t sleeping naked this time. The fans would’ve loved it.”

He shoved him off.

He had caught him _one_ time.

It got _hot_ in the summer. It wasn’t his fault.

For the most part, Lukas was rarely alone, whether it with Bastian or someone else. So, when Miro got to talk to him privately, it was weeks into the World Cup, and he moved quickly, pulling him off to the side after practice.

He could tell Miro wasn’t sure how to approach whatever topic he wanted at first, making awkward small talk. However, it had to have been important because he was speaking in their mother tongue, Polish.

When Lukas answered his probing questions and had mentioned Bastian, Miro seemed to take the opportunity to lead the conversation, interrupting his story about a late night run-in with an enthusiastic fan while he was on the way to the market or something he wasn’t quite sure.

“Do you see Bastian at night? Often, I mean.”

“Well,” he answered slowly, dragging out the monosyllabic word, and perplexed by Miro’s sudden rudeness. His polite friend hated to be disrespectful in any way. “Usually we hang out during the day after practice. But, I guess, then we lose track of time, and it turns to night… So, yes?”

Miro coughed. “And, you do it often?”

“I guess? What’s wrong, Miro?”

To Lukas, it took longer than necessary for Miro to say, “Nothing.” He wanted to point it out as well, but Miro threw his arm around Lukas and led him toward the showers, adding with a tired chuckle, “Forget it. Just wondering where you are all the time. Should’ve known.”

“You _would_ have known if you didn’t go to sleep so early.”

“I go to bed early, Poldi, but I don’t sleep.”

“What…?”

“Phone calls with Sylwia,” he answered breezily, clapping Lukas on the chest.

Lukas mouthed an ‘oh’ of understanding and then shuddered.

“Such disrespect.”

As it was, Miro didn’t have to tell Lukas anything.

A few days later, Bastian threw the crinkled magazine at his face during breakfast, and before he had a chance to read it, prompted him, “You think I should break it off with Dani now? Or wait until after the Cup?”

Snatching the papers from out of his food, Lukas held them in confusion, scanning them for clues. “What?”

“Read it.”

Lukas followed to where Bastian pointed him, quickly understanding. At the very least, it explained a lot of the behaviors and reactions he saw that morning and quirked his eye at him, “Sorry, Schweini. I’m not into older men.”

“Shit. Well, I lost that bet.”

“Fuck off.”

“I thought for sure you and Miro...” He nudged him suggestively.

“Me and Miro? What about you and Micha? Maybe I should get the guys to leave you two alone in the showers, eh?”

Swiping a piece of Bacon, he chewed on it thoughtfully before replying, “Nah. We like to keep an open invitation. Interested?”

“Hell no,” he shot back, grabbing the rest of his bacon back and tossing the magazine back at Bastian.

The two of them had another laugh about it before resuming as normal. They treated it as a joke, as did the entire team, but internally, Lukas was somehow irked by it.

At least Bastian had a girlfriend to make the rumors seem as fabricated as they were. Lukas himself hadn’t had a date in years, or ever, if you didn’t count play dates. Football was his girlfriend, he supposed, but he didn’t think that was as effective as having a real girlfriend.

.

Thinking back, during their fallout, he regretted treating it lightly. He didn’t think people would be so invested in what he and Bastian had jokingly chosen to dub ‘schweinski.’ To be fair, it was better than ‘podolsteiger.’ But, that was little comfort when his best friend apparently didn’t want to be his best friend anymore.

.

Lukas would never forget the hot blaze of fame and excitement following the World Cup, when they came back to celebrate on the _fanmeil_. When he came back home.

He and Bastian were the new generation of football, they said, and he remembered it felt like being a hero. The _Best_ Youngest Player of the World Cup. The first one.

He had a couple of weeks off before having to return to club football, but he felt antsy. He wouldn’t be going back to Cologne. He would have to figure out how to settle in with Bayern Munich instead. He knew the guys from the national team, but it would be different, he knew, which may have explained why he tried to grab hold of a piece of home for himself, something to hold him steady and keep him bound to the place he figured he’d always call home.

When they were younger, he might have had feelings for her—Monika—, but as he grew older and became more and more preoccupied with football, he didn’t spare her, much less any other girl, a second thought.

She was just another girl from around town, but when they met again in the celebrating crowd with him in the center, and he brazenly kissed her in front of their friends and family, he thought he could live with her, come to love her.

The dating was easy enough. She was pretty and shy. Always eager to hear about his football stories, despite not showing much interest in watching games, she went with him anyway to be by his side. She was easy to be with, and they had fun, he concluded. There was little else he could think to want. Nothing he could even think of was missing. He was content and felt fulfilled.

The first time Bastian called in the middle of one of his and Monika’s date, Monika politely excused herself and let him take the call. He shot her an apologetic look and kissed her cheek, offering to call him back after she left, but she refused the thought.

“Thank you, but it’s fine, Lukas.”

“Then, are you sure you don’t want to stay instead?” He covered the mouth of the receiver. “It won’t take long.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she reminded him. She gave him a small smile and kissed his lips lightly and almost as if on accident. They both knew his calls with Bastian took hours, a common reason as to why Lukas was late or ended up calling her later than planned. “Tell Schweini I say ‘hi.’ Goodnight, Lukas.”

“Night, Monika.”

A moment passed between them as he held onto her hand adoringly, not knowing he was keeping her from leaving because he was never one to break these moments. Obliviously, however, Bastian broke it for them, calling for him from the phone, “Luki?! You still there?”

“Luki?” She mouthed as he ushered her out the door.

Lukas embarrassed for whatever reason.

Her smile brightened as she teased him. “It’s cute.”

“Goodnight, Monika,” he stressed.

“Goodnight… Luki.” Her tinkling laughter broke through the warm night, muffled and fading when he closed the door behind her.

“Hey Schweini. Sorry about that.”

“Who was that?” He had asked immediately, sounding far away.

“The girl?”

“Yeah. Who was she?”

“I was on a date. Kinda,” he explained. “She was my date.”

“Oh… Sorry. You never mentioned.”

“It’s just been for a week. After the Cup.”

“Oh,” he said again. “Be careful, Luki.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what I said. Be careful. You come home after the Cup. Your face is everywhere. You’ve got more money than most people our age, and you’ve got a future. And then she comes in from nowhere? How well do you really know her? How did you two meet? It’s suspicious.”

Feeling defensive of his actions, he bit back, “I’ve known her for a lot longer than I’ve known you.”

“I’m just looking out for you, Luki. You know you trust too much and way too easy. They take advantage of that.”

“I’m not a kid. I can make my own decisions.”

“I know. I just worry, you know?”

“Well, don’t. She’s not like Dani.” When he heard himself say her name, he flinched and regretted it immediately.

“I see,” Bastian said, taking on an icy tone he hadn’t heard before.

“Schweini, I’m sorry. You know I—I didn’t mean to—”

“I know. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Poldi. I’m kinda tired now. It’s late.”

“Yeah. It is late.”

“Goodnight.”

“Sorry,” he repeated, even after the dial tone greeted him.

They didn’t talk much about that night, and Bastian had called him the next morning as promised, and it was as if everything was okay and had gone back to normal and the night before hadn’t happened. Except it did, and now Bastian knew Lukas was dating someone, and despite his efforts to make it seem like it was okay, Lukas got the feeling that he was still smarting after that night.

So, for the time following that night, Lukas made sure to properly bid Monika goodbye before picking up any calls from Bastian, denying that Bastian had interrupted anything even when he did.

It worked somewhat.

.


	2. PART II

Unlike his start to the national team, Lukas was itching to get on the field, to prove himself once his vacation was over.

His introduction to the club had been more than kind. Expectations were high, especially with the relative success of World Cup behind him. He was ready.

However, he wasn’t ready for what actually happened. It was insidious. The way the two of them were measured against each other, both somehow coming up short.

What should have been a great partnership, wasn’t. What worked for them on the national level failed them at the club level.

Magath wanted results, and they weren’t providing them.

He couldn’t talk to Bastian about it either. He didn’t want to worry him or burden him more with his insecurities. He thought it would make it worse, make Bastian trust him less, and he never wanted Bastian to lose confidence in him even when he knew it was his own fault for the disappointment. They couldn’t cooperate or work because of him, so he had to figure it out himself. 

However, since he couldn’t talk to Bastian about his worries, he talked to Monika about it at length.

He trusted her to give good advice even as Bastian continued to give him odd looks whenever he’d be caught talking to her. Despite Bastian’s insistence that he couldn’t really know her true persona so soon and the quiet arguments he and Bastian got in over it, Lukas really did trust her. She was a good girl, he reminded himself, even if Bastian had something against her.

Monika, to her credit, was proving to be a really good listener, a confidante, and always there when he needed her to be.

It helped, he thought, to talk to her. It helped to have someone so far removed from the football world that he had immersed himself.

But, it was unfair to use her as an escape, to depend on her in such a way.

It was more so a bad idea when, by the time he had recovered, he realized that the wall he put between himself and Bastian had been fortified unbeknownst to him while he was on the other side just trying to piece himself together.

And, it hurt, knowing that Bastian didn’t want anything to do with him anymore.

Lukas figured that Bastian had figured it out and correctly pinpointed him as the root of their poor performance. He couldn't blame him. 

It had gotten to the point when Lukas couldn’t remember the last time he talked to Bastian. He couldn’t tell when it had changed from him trying to avoid Bastian to not having to try at all.

“Give him time,” Monika told him. “He’s under a lot of stress, too.”

“You think?”

“Aren’t you?”

He sighed, “You’re right.”

He let her take the reins of the conversation after that, another thing he liked about Monika. She didn’t mind that he wasn’t entirely listening, understood that he couldn’t, understood that he still appreciated her.

However, it was during this rift that Lukas started hearing some strange rumors about Bastian.

Lukas stood facing away from the others as he got dressed.

From behind him, he heard, “Holy shit. I swear you guys should’ve gone out with us last night. I saw Schweini kissing some guy. It was freaky.”

“Sure you did.”

“It looked exactly like him. That stupid hair.”

“And what’d he say when you talked to him about it?”

“I—uh… He got away.”

“Right.”

“Doesn’t he have a girl?”

“They broke up,” Lukas corrected automatically. He wished he hadn't said anything at all when they turned their attention to him. 

“No shit? And how do you know?” They sniggered as he kept his back turned.

He swore under his breath, messily pulling his shirt over his head.

“Don’t pout, Poldi. We’re just joking. We know you’re his best _friend_.”

“Nah, haven’t you noticed how he’s actually got time for us now? It’s cause ‘schweinski’ broke up. Right, Poldi?” He asked, grabbing his arm for attention.

Lukas didn’t have a response for that, choosing to shake him off and walk out of the dressing room.

It wasn’t possible, he concluded, but he had to know for sure.

Later, he heard a rumor that Bastian had been seen a lot with another blonde _female_ , and he wasn’t sure whether or not he felt more or less at eased knowing that, but it didn't deter him from trying to gain back Bastian's friendship.

Monika told him to give Bastian time, but it had been more than long enough, and he was tired of waiting to repair a rift that shouldn’t have happened at all. He was tired of not being able to talk to him or hang out like they used to.

Then, one day after practice, Lukas cornered him. When he ignored his calls and continued to ignore him, he decided to have their talk in person. It had taken him two days before he found an opportunity.

“Hey, Schweini,” he approached carefully. “Can we talk?”

When Bastian walked past him, Lukas trailed after him even as he continued ignoring him.

“Schweini?”

He watched as Bastian’s shoulders squared and his back straightened, sparing him just a few moments' glance before continuing to walk away from him, and that was that.

Unfortunately, most of their ‘conversations’ had gone similarly until things came to a head one after one unfortunate game.

They had lost against Mainz, and the blame had fallen to Bastian, who accepted it and the thinly concealed anger in silence. Lukas himself was furious. Bastian had spectacularly refused to pass to Lukas when he was open to give them a chance to tie up the score. It had been a perfect opportunity, and he was so tired of everything between them.

And, everything between them obviously wasn’t going to get fixed by leaving it up to Bastian.

This time, Lukas didn’t wait until they were alone.

He caught him standing in the showers under the water and shoved him against the hard tile without warning. Their teammates who had positioned themselves peripherally had been startled by the sudden attack but raised no alarm, filing out without a word.

He’d admit it. The anger had gotten the best of him. That goal would have meant something for him, and he more than resented Bastian for taking it away from him, but he would’ve let it go if Bastian just gave him the time of day after.

Lukas’ fingers pressed into his wet skin tightly at the thought. The steady beat of water falling on the shower floor accompanied his shallow breathing.

Eventually, his breathing evened, and his clarity came back, making him uncomfortable with the situation he forced himself into.

In the back of his mind, he noted that this was the closest he’d been to Bastian in weeks, and not only was Bastian naked—he stubbornly dragged his eyes up to his—, they were both standing there, watching the other.

Bastian hadn’t resisted, hadn’t said a word. He kept his gaze and waited for his next move. When he didn’t make one, Bastian made it for him as he rolled his eyes in heated disgust.

Bastian stepped forward, and Lukas stepped back, still holding his shoulders underneath his hands. Annoyance flashed across his face as Lukas kept him a literal arm’s length away. Bastian was apparently confident enough in his own skin to not care about his state of undress and somehow had the upper hand anyway.

“What?” Bastian pushed him back with as much force as he first pushed him.

Lukas stumbled and considered running away.

“ _What_ do you want, _Lukas_? What do you want from me?” He punctuated each word with a shove.

“You—,” he stammered, wincing.

“Me?” Bastian paused in his abuse and latched onto his answer instantly. He tilted his head in curiosity, coming slowly closer to him, as much as Lukas allowed before he found himself in the same position Bastian was moments ago.

With a small voice, he replied, “Yeah?”

“Go on.” Bastian put his hands against the wall on either side of his head.

Feeling caged, Lukas swallowed. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Scoffing, his eyes darkened and narrowed, commanding his attention easily. “Right. Finally tired of talking to _Moni_?”

He sounded bitter, but Lukas couldn’t believe that.

At Lukas’ silence, Bastian tiredly asked, “What did you want to talk about?”

“Why are you acting like this?”

“Like what?”

Bastian’s crooked smile mocked him, but Lukas played along anyway. He remembered he wanted to talk, and he finally got his chance. “Why have you been ignoring me?”

“I haven’t.”

“You have.”

“Then, you don’t want to know why.”

“Why not?”

“Because I know you,” his voice reverberated bounced around them and in his head. “We can talk about it when you can handle it.”

“I can handle it fine now.”

“Can you?”

“Yes! I’m not a child, Schweini.”

Bastian’s lips thinned before slowly quirking into a small smile. Resting on his elbows, he lowered his face next to Lukas’, breaths mingling.

He couldn’t say that he didn’t expect it.

For a brief moment, he let Bastian cover his mouth with his and slide his tongue into his mouth. He let Bastian kiss him. He felt himself enjoying it before he realized it was wrong and his left fist connected with Bastian’s jaw.

Bastian fell back, hissed in pain and swore before turning to face up at him. He smiled ruefully as he picked himself up and walked away. “Maybe another time then. See you around, Lukas.”

Lukas sank to the floor and sat listening to the running water until someone obliviously came in to take a shower and interrupted his thoughts. Keeping his head down, he left, eventually peeling off his dirty uniform and changing before heading straight home to shower there instead.

He tried not to think too much about Bastian as he beat off in the stream of hot water.

He especially tried not to think about the rumors.

That night, he skipped calling Monika to give him some time to clear his head, but the next night, Monika called him instead.

“Lukas? Where have you been?”

“Hey, Moni—Monika.”

“I missed you, Lukas. What’ve you been up to? I tried to call, but you never pick up.”

“Sorry. I’ve been… busy. The last couple of days… It’s been rough.”

“Do you want to come over to talk about it?”

“Honestly, no.”

“… Do you want to come over anyway? We can watch a movie. I just… really miss you.”

“Maybe this weekend.”

“Okay… Will you call me tomorrow?”

“I promise.”

.

It was December when he and Bastian spoke more words than was required for a perfunctory greeting.

Lukas was still shakily holding on to everything that was expected of him, and it showed on the pitch as well as pervaded into his personal life. The strain almost broke the rest of his relationships.

So, when Bastian offered to work together again—to help them _both_ get out of their rut, he said—, Lukas accepted, more relieved than he let show.

“Whatever happened before… Don’t worry about it, alright? We should focus on working together. For the team.”

"Right. Bygones,” he agreed, biting his tongue.

It wasn’t an acknowledgement of doing something wrong, and it certainly wasn’t an apology for his behavior. Lukas really should have stopped to consider everything else, but more than a tiny part of him was secretly glad that he’d have Bastian back on his side as well.

Luukas had been lonely.

And, he was altogether certain that things were simpler for them if they both forgot, which is why after a few long days spent together during break, it seemed like nothing had changed between them. They slipped back into their old friendship, slipped back into their old ways.

.

During their short holiday break, they already had plans to spend time together.

Lukas stomped up the stairs to his room, yet again, trying to figure out where he had left the concert tickets. So far, he had only figured out where it wasn’t.

From downstairs, his mother called, “ _Słoneczko_ , you’re going to be late! What’re you doing up there?”

“Can’t find the tickets!”

“Did you check your underwear drawer?”

“Why would it— _oh_. Thanks, _mama_!”

“Slow down,” she replied as he jumped over the last few steps down.

He rushed passed her, ignoring the warning and instead kissing her cheek once before heading towards the door.

“You’ll end up in the hospital before you get there.”

“Can’t. Late,” he answered with a grin. Hopping on one foot, he leaned against the door to tie his shoes.

“Well, go on then. And remember to be a gentleman. Oh! And come home on time. I don’t want to have to have a talk with Monika’s parents… Lord knows. Of course, maybe in a few years. Might be nice—”

“ _Mama_! Please, stop! No more,” he whined, as if in physical pain. “I’m hanging out with Schweini tonight.”

“Oh, not Monika?”

“Nah. Monika’s not into this type of stuff.”

“It’s just—you’ve been spending a lot of time with him lately. I’m happy you two made up, but doesn’t Monika mind?”

“She’s fine. I asked,” he reassured her with some hesitation. Lukas could tell that Monika was irked by her dismissive tone when he told her that he’d be going to a concert with Bastian instead of her, but she let him go anyway. He wouldn’t have pressed the issue either way.

“Alright, that’s good then. In that case, you two _boys_ be safe. Don’t let him out of your sight, alright? And, come back _before_ curfew. I don’t want to have to call _his_ parents either after the police have found you boys in a ditch somewhere. What will your father and I tell Schweini’s parents if—”

“Goodbye, _mama_!”

“Stay warm!”

He left his house and met up with Bastian after taking a train to get to him and then a couple more to get to the concert.

After the concert, they decided to stay out and visited a late night arcade. Lukas could practically hear his mother scolding him. But, he figured he would just avoid places with ditches to save her from her worries.

“You going to pick that up?”

“What?”

“Your phone,” Bastian clarified. “It’s ringing.”

“Shit. Yeah. It’s probably Monika.”

“Oh, yeah?” Bastian said almost too casually. “You always call her this late?”

Lukas had little time to dissect his tone however as he saw Bastian pass him on the screens of their racing game.

“Yes! Get your head in the game, Luki!”

“Fuck, how—Forget it. I’ll call her after,” he decided, setting his phone to the side. Putting both hands on the game’s steering wheel, he pressed down hard on the metal pedal.

He lied to Monika when he saw her later, claiming he was asleep and forgot. He wasn’t sure if she could tell he was lying, but she accepted his apology all the same.

.

Unfortunately, when Lukas was taking the train into the city to see Bastian yet again before their vacation was up, an unwelcome thought dawned on him.

Perhaps it was something newly acquired, or perhaps it had always been there. He didn’t know. Both were equally troubling prospects because either way, the thought _existed_. The sentiment, the _feelings_ existed, the ones that someone wouldn’t usually have for their friend.

Lukas was silent, in contrast to the loud indiscernible chattering of the other passengers and the whooshing and rhythmic _chk-chk-chk_ of wheels cycling on the tracks. The insistent realization didn’t leave him even as he got off the train at the next station and found another heading back.

A half hour after their designated time, he got the expected call from Bastian.

“Where are you? You're late.”

“Hey, man. Sorry… Monika called, and I hadn’t seen her in a while so…”

“Oh. Got it," he said quickly, before Lukas even had to elaborate. "Have fun with your girlfriend.”

“Thanks…Sorry again, Schweini.”

“Nah. Forget about it. I’ll just take Sarah instead. Have fun.”

Lukas didn’t have time to question who this ‘Sarah’ was before Bastian hung up.

.


	3. PART III

After his revelation, a wise decision would have been staying away from Bastian after that, but he didn’t. Lukas made up for standing him up by treating him out to the movies and then ice cream after.

Bastian was a sucker for ice cream. 

He didn't leave Cologne the entire break, preferring to stay close to home. He didn't have to anyway to do the things he wanted. Much of the rest of his break was spent in the local arcades or in the city with his family or Bastian, actually, but almost always with Bastian. 

And, coming back from their holiday break, according to the manager, they were doing better. Not enough to regularly feature in the starting eleven, but it was a huge improvement for them both. And, it seemed, to everyone else, they were finally delivering on the promised potential that they’d shown during the Cup.

He was happy— _happier_ ; Monika had said as much, and he was inclined to agree that going forward was looking less bleak.

Things turned better when, for a change, Lukas entered the dressing room victoriously after a match. Wiping away the sweat on his brow, he shrugged off his teammates’ clingy congratulatory celebrations and headed to the showers.

He took longer than usual, wanting to linger in the fading glow of scoring the goal that broke the tie and secured their victory. When he finally got out, he noticed there was the sound of just one other shower running. Following his ears, his eyes trailed curiously to the source and found an unsettling empty space.

He tried to step away and immediately found himself face to face with Bastian and a sense of déjà vu. Unfortunately, it was to his disadvantage this time, clothes-wise.

“Hey, Schweini. Thanks for that assist, man,” he said carefully.

Without a response, he feigned nonchalance and smiled with teeth, one that Bastian mirrored. Bastian’s uneasiness rolled off him, and Lukas knew he had something to tell him. Although, he would have preferred being clothed.

Unsettled, he dropped false pretenses and ventured, “You feeling alright? What’s wrong?”

“One kiss,” Bastian asked, the request coming from nowhere. He pressed their foreheads together. Letting out a shaky breath, he grinned and added almost apologetically, “To thank me.”

“Thank you?”

“You’re welcome.”

His fingers trembled as they traced along Lukas’ jaw.

Lukas felt the warmth from his hand reach his bones and take away the ache.

 _What about your girlfriend_ , he wanted to ask. _What was this all about?_ But, his lips were busy, and his mind turned blank.

He regained some semblance of thought it was past midnight, and Bastian’s apartment was dark. He had somehow followed him there.

Lukas’ phone vibrated in his pocket, causing them both to jolt and break apart.

Bastian pulled away from Lukas as he pulled out his phone and answered it. Coming back to the couch with a glass of water, he pushed the cool drink into his hands and sighed as he sat back down next to him and rested his head on his shoulder.

Lukas felt uncomfortable with him so close by as he talked to Monika, but he didn’t push him away or make to move.

“Hey, Moni. Is anything wrong? It’s late.”

“I know it’s late, Lukas. Did you forget? I was waiting.”

“Shit... yes? We didn’t have a date, did we?”

“No, but it was your turn to call.”

“Sorry, Monika,” he said apologetically but nevertheless relieved. “I got caught up.”

“What have you been up to?”

He shivered as Bastian suggested quietly in his other ear, “Celebrating your first goal this year.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“‘Oh, yeah’? 'Oh yeah,' what? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, no. I was just celebrating, Moni. I scored my first goal this year.”

“Really? Lukas, that’s wonderful! Congratulations! I’m so sorry I missed it. I had work, and you know how they don’t let me take any time off. I’m just _so_ sorry, darling.”

“Moni— _Monika_ ,” he stressed when she wouldn’t stop apologizing. “It’s fine. It’s not going to be the last time I score. It better not,” he joked.

“Of course not,” she replied, laughing with him. “I really am sorry, though. Are you almost done?”

“No. I think I should leave now, though, actually.” He looked pointedly at Bastian, who stood and gave up his eavesdropping. Moments later, the lights came on. He caught sight of his reflection in the smooth glass and frowned, his gaze faltering.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Then… can we talk more when you get back? You can tell me about everything.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” he said quickly. Admonishing himself for his defensiveness, he spoke with more deliberate softness, “I’d rather talk about your day.”

“Are you joking? _You’d_ rather talk about school and my boring job than about your match? Who are you?”

He smiled into his phone, promising, “Talk soon, Moni.”

“Bye, Lukas.”

When he looked up, he found Bastian standing with his back pressed against the door.

Slipping on his jacket, he quietly walked closer to him. Expectantly, he waited for him to step aside.

“Good work today. I knew we could do it.”

Bastian cocked his head to the side and held his gaze before surrendering and letting him go. “Of course. We’re better together.”

The next time he saw Monika was that weekend, and he feared she’d see right through him, see what he’d done. He had been staying away from Bastian, who also helped by giving him some space, but there was little else he could do. She would see his infidelity and betrayal. He was sure of it.

So, after they had cleared the plates and dishes and settled on the couch—her parents retired to their room to give them privacy—, she had predictably asked him, “Is something wrong?”

“No. What do you mean?”

“You’ve been jumpy all day. Did I do something?”

“No. There’s nothing wrong, Moni. I’m just nervous around your parents.”

“My parents love you, and you’ve never had a problem before.”

Biting her lip, she speculated tentatively, “Does it have something to do with Bastian then?”

“Why? Why would you say that?”

“Because you haven’t mentioned him recently. Good or bad. Did something happen? Is he mad again?” She placed a comforting hand over his.

“We’re fine. I’m fine,” he insisted, jerking his hand back. “Can’t you just believe me?”

“I could.” Head turned down, she cowered slightly at his raised voice. “I want to.”

Remorsefully, he cupped her cheek and kissed her forehead. “It’s got nothing to do with _us_.”

“Mhmm,” she hummed softly, leaning into his touch. “Movie before you go?”

“Yeah. You pick.”

.

His days were filled with Monika until Bastian approached him again and led him back to his apartment.

He knew he couldn’t retreat forever, and it was so easy to give in.

With Bastian, it was always easy.

“We should stop,” Lukas tried, even as Bastian’s hands moved against his stomach.

“Yeah.”

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

“One last kiss.”

“Okay.”

.

His guilt made it hard to see Monika.

He and Bastian hadn’t stopped even with his halfhearted resistance.

“I was sleeping,” Lukas claimed quietly, opening the door to let him in. They were staying at a hotel for an away game.

Bastian shrugged. “Then leave it unlocked next time.”

A confident and reassured _next time_.

Realistically, he knew there’d be a next time. Lukas just liked to believe that he had the will to stop. “No,” was all he said in reply.

“It’d save you the trouble. You’d wake up to something nicer, too,” he promised sweetly.

Sitting back on the bed, he countered, “What if there’s a murderer?”

Bastian snorted at his suggestion as he stood over him.

Lukas sat on the bed with baited breath, waiting for Bastian to make the first move. When he didn’t, Lukas looked up, straining to see him; the only light in the room being the rays of moon sneaking in from behind the closed curtains. They cast a soft glow on the angles of his face but nothing more.

He barely caught the new upward curve in his lips before he was pushed back and overwhelmed by the same secretive smile pressed up against his neck.

The next time went much like the last.

And, when they had another away game, Lukas stayed in his bed waiting for the inevitable footsteps outside. It was after curfew, so all was quiet except for the muffled sounds coming from the outside nightlife. When the doorknob turned undeterred, his breathing picked up.

.

It was a devastating blow when Lukas was relegated to the second team.

His pride refused to let him show any emotion other than _happy_. The key was to never let his smile falter.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For you getting…”

“Punished? Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault.”

“You blame me.”

“I don’t.”

“You do. You blame me. I can see it.”

“Fine. But, that doesn’t mean it’s your fault. Just let it go, alright? I’ll get over it.”

“You think I like this? Talking about it? No. But, you look like you’re giving up. And, that’s not good, Luki.”

“I’m not giving up… I’m just… tired. You don’t understand.”

“Only because you don’t want me to. I’m worried.”

“Let it go, Schweini.”

“Fine.”

That was the last time they had talked.

Then, unexpectedly, during a friendly training match against VfB Lübeck, Lukas realized that he didn’t know very much about Bastian.

‘Schweinsteiger’ wasn’t a very common name. So, when he saw it on the back of another team’s jersey, he couldn’t help but take another look. The resemblance was hard to argue with, and he stumbled into an introduction.

“Can I help you?”

Snapping out of his stupor, Lukas awkwardly replied, “Hey. Sorry. I just. You look a lot like my friend, and I—sorry. My name’s Lukas. You can call me Poldi.”

“I thought it was you. Recognized you from some pictures but didn’t think I’d see you here. I heard you transferred but…” He stopped himself short and shook his hand. “Tobias. Or, Tobi, I guess.” He cocked his head to the side and looked him up and down. “So, you’re Basti’s friend?”

“Yeah! Are you related?”

“He’s my little brother.” Tobias couldn’t help but laugh at his silent shock. “Yeah.”

“Sorry. It’s—He’s never mentioned any brothers.”

“Yeah. We usually won’t. Not unless you ask.” At his silence, Tobias quickly added, “Oh, no. It’s nothing like that. Nothing bad. No skeletons. We just don’t.” He shrugged, pausing. “You two are close.”

“Hard not to be,” he said nervously. It wasn’t a lie to just agree, but it wouldn’t be the complete truth either. He hadn’t talked to Bastian for weeks. He was sure that if he just reached out to Bastian after that last time, they’d still be talking—still be them, but he had his pride; he was still smiling after all that.

“I figured. He mentioned you a couple of times.”

“Shit. That can’t be good,” Lukas laughed, crossing his arms. “He’s a fucking liar.”

“No, no. It was all good. Those pranks. It was cute.”

“Cute? I guess you really are the older brother.”

“You saying you didn’t believe me? I’m hurt.”

“I’m saying I wouldn’t believe you were the older one otherwise.”

Tobias scratched the bridge of his nose and seemed to hesitate before asking, “So, are you sure you two are just friends?”

“No, I mean. Yeah,” he answered, tripping over his words. “We’re _just_ friends.”

“Then, I’m glad to hear it. So, do you have to leave right after the match? Or…”

“We’re heading back to the hotel, but I think we’re leaving tomorrow.”

He nodded his head in consideration. “Great,” he said slowly. Looking back up at him, he showed off another perfect smile. “Then, we have some time.”

“Time for what?”

“A date.”

Caught off guard, Lukas stuttered out an apology, “Sorry, Tobi. I can’t. I’m—”

His eyes widened at his mistake. “Shit. No. It’s my fault. I didn’t think—I thought you were gay.”

“What? No, no. Shit, I have a girlfriend.”

Tobias gave him a look. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Monika. Her name.”

“Seriously.” Clapping him on the back and shaking off his embarrassment with laughter, Tobias asked him, “Has anyone ever told you that you—” he knocked his shoulder with his other hand, “ _you_ are a shameless flirt?”

“I was not.”

“Then, you’re a bastard natural.”

“What? How?”

“Come on. You can’t really not know?”

Lukas looked helplessly at him.

“You smiled at me.”

“I _always_ smile like this.”

“You laughing.”

“I always laugh like that.”

“Fine,” he laughed. Gesturing vaguely with his hand, he posited, “Then it’s… your entire _thing_. Shit. I don’t know. Admit it. Not the first time a guy hit on you.”

His face reddened at the memories and awkward conversations, never mind what he was doing with Bastian.

“That’s what I thought.”

“I’m seeing the resemblance a lot more now.”

“Ouch. But, you know. If you are free, we can still hang out. But, since you’re not putting out, I’m afraid you’re paying for your own damn meal.”

“I don’t know. Another time? Honestly, I think I’m on pretty thin ice with the managers.”

Tobias seemed to nod his head in understanding. “Sounds good. I’ve got some _good_ stories I could tell you about Basti, too.”

“Then, definitely another time.”

“Hold on. Here, my number,” he said, scribbling onto the inside of his jersey sleeve. “Don’t give that away or you’ll lose my number, and call me when you get back. And don’t look at me like that. It’s just to talk and maybe you can tell me what my darling baby brother’s been up to, too.”

“I thought you two were good.”

“We’re good, but that doesn’t mean he tells me everything. He’s in that rebellious phase, you know? Really adorable, but I worry.”

“That’s one way of putting it. Thanks.”

“Thank _you_. Talk soon.”

“Yeah. Talk soon.”

As promised, Lukas had called Tobias, many times. It felt almost like talking to Bastian. However, it made Lukas miss talking to him all the more.

Fortunately or not, Lukas had his unspoken wish fulfilled.

Three weeks later, as Lukas was heading back from practice, he found Bastian waiting for him at the train station.

Slowing down, he approached him as soon as he noticed him, but as soon as he got closer, Bastian started walking.

Curiously, Lukas followed, but, when Bastian didn’t give any indication of speaking soon, Lukas took the initiative.

“What’s this about, Schweini?”

“Shut up.”

“You shut up. Or, start talking.”

“Shut _up_.”

“ _No_. What’s going on? Is something wrong? Is everything okay?”

Finally, Bastian paused to look back at him. “You’d know.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“You and my brother are friends now.”

“We talk. Yeah.”

“How’d you meet?”

“My team played his team a couple of weeks ago.”

“And you just decided, out of all the other players, all the other people in the world, to become friends with, you chose him?”

“No—it’s not like I picked him. We just talked. But, even if it was. What’s wrong with that?”

“Did he come onto you?”

“No, that was my fault.”

“What was your fault?”

“Yeah, I guess. I was the one staring at him.”

“You were staring at him? So, you came onto him? What, Monika finally leave you?”

“Schweini! What is your problem?”

“My problem _—_ ,” he said, voice crackling with tension. “—is _you_.” He held him by his collar.

The tips of their noses were almost close enough to touch. For a foolish moment, he thought he would kiss him, but Bastian pushed him away, and he blinked back into the present.

“Follow me.”

“No.”

Through his teeth, he uttered, “Please.”

Lukas sighed and gave a slight dip of his head in acquiescence.

It didn’t take long for Lukas to recognize that they were headed in the direction of Bastian’s apartment, and his feet followed on their own accord, retracing the familiar path.

As soon as the door was shut and they were inside his apartment, Lukas had his back pinned between the wall and Bastian, whose chest rose and fell shakily against his own.  

He breathed, “I’m sorry.”

Lukas wasn’t sure how to handle the drastic swing in attitude. “Wha—”

“I overstepped. I shouldn’t have said. You can do what you want, Luki. It’s none of my business.”

“Schweini, I don’t understand? What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry. Do you forgive me?”

“But, you haven’t done anything.”

“Do you hate me?”

“For what?”

“Leaving you? Not being able to help more. For…”

Lukas’ lips thinned. “That wasn’t your decision,” he said shortly.

“Do you hate me?”

“Of course not.”

“You didn’t talk to me for over a month.”

“What was there to talk about?” His words stung even himself with their honesty. As much as he had wanted to talk to Bastian, he didn’t know what to say without his relegation hanging over them. “I mean, I didn’t know what I could say. You could’ve said something.”

He admitted, “I tried—I tried to try. After my brother said he met you. I—It’s not the first time I waited for you, you know?”

“Why’d you leave?”

“I had to. You were with other people. Didn’t want them to see or talk around them. It's none of their business.”

Lukas remembered spending time with his new teammates in an attempt to keep his mind off other things and closed his eyes in resignation at their misfortune. “I’m sorry.”

In sincere attrition, he tilted Bastian’s face up to his and kissed him. Breaking apart, he licked his lips, tasted him there, and kissed him again.

“Why are you talking with Tobi? Are you… interested in him?”

“It’s not like that. We’re friends.”

“Good.”

“Why do you care if I’m interested in him anyway? Did you forget I still have Monika?” It was a question he wanted to ask even long before he knew to ask it. Tactlessly, it fell from his tongue even as Bastian held him.

“It’s not the same.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just not the same.”

“Right,” he sighed. “Why don’t you explain it to me?”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“It’s complicated. You have to figure it out yourself.”

“You can’t help?”

“What do you think I’ve been doing?” Bastian brought his thigh up in between his legs, and he let out a groan. “What do you say we go and make up?”

“Make up? This wasn’t much of a fight,” he lied.

“I could disagree.”

.


	4. PART IV

Lukas was able to manage a few more weeks of stability before Monika quietly told him she was pregnant after the end of the season.

Finding his voice, he swore, remembering not thinking to use protection or taking any precaution. As soon as she had suggested that it was time they take that next step—on his birthday no less—, he had been too caught up in nerves and second thoughts about whether or not to take that step when thoughts of Bastian seemed to hang around over his shoulder like a disapproving specter the entire time.

Their first time was only memorable in that Lukas threw up after she left. He was sure it had hurt for Monika as well; his clumsiness masking his experience.

Then there was the selfishness in him that was wholly glad she was pregnant. Having a family was one of many things he had looked forward to as he grew up. He knew he’d get around to it eventually, the nebulous idea of _family_ was very important to him, and Monika was giving it to him in the most traditional sense.

With tremendous caution, he allayed her fears as best as a twenty two year old could.

They decided to tell their parents together, who welcomed the pregnancy after a tense moment of shock similar to Lukas’.

After realizing that their children were closer to thirty than they were thirteen, they accepted the development more easily.

In the coming days, it was evident that his mother had taken it in stride better than the others if her shopping trips were any indication. She had also acquired a habit of pointing out all the baby items in a store and sprinkling their conversations with parenting tips much to Lukas’ dismay.

However, part of her frequent shopping trips were useful in their own way. She had been helping Lukas and Monika pick out their own furnishings as well. It had been decided sometime during the first reveal that they would be moving in together.

Lukas hadn’t been too picky with where he would live so long as it was in Cologne, and everyone had agreed that an apartment between their parents’ houses was best.

The apartment Monika picked thus had plenty of windows for natural light, a small balcony, and a fourth room—just in case, they’d said; his parents laughed while he nervously glanced at Monika, who looked down at her feet with her hands on her abdomen as they usually were.

He wished she wouldn’t do that; the swell of her stomach was barely noticeable at that point.

In the busied and hectic planning of the merging of his and Monika’s lives, Bastian had slipped to the back of his mind for the first time since they had met, but he didn’t stay there for long.

One day during their short summer break before the start of the next season, with the boxes and boxes in the halls and rooms of Lukas and Monika’s new apartment, Bastian showed up. He said he’d been pointed to the correct place by Lukas’ mother, who had cheerfully informed him of the impending change in all of their lives.

He looked like an avenging angel to Lukas then. He had to have run all the way from his old house to this new one. The bright color helped to add an odd halo effect around his head as his hair stuck out and hung slightly damp over his forehead.

Tired as Lukas was, he still easily saw past that to the betrayal written deep in the lines of Bastian’s face.

The words slipped out of his mouth. “I’m sorry.”

Bastian shrugged, but he could still see the tension in his shoulders. “For what? I’m fine.”

He didn’t dare question the claim.

Bastian didn’t stay around long, just enough to lock the deadbolt on the front door and christen the apartment before he and Monika could even think to.

.

After moving in, it seemed Monika had taken a look around and decided to flip a switch. She kept a short temper around Lukas for the most part and then acted apologetic the next, a far cry from how good-natured and pleasant she was before.

In the course of the next couple of months, the physical demands and emotional exhaustion from trying to get out of the second team had Lukas wound up and stretched taut. However, even before the start of season, he knew he would find little solace with Monika. Her demands had started small, and Lukas had been near happy to do them—to do anything that would help make her pregnancy easier—, but he quickly became increasingly annoyed and resentful with her.

By Monika’s third trimester, _Lukas_ was ready for the little bastard to be out. It’d be at least one less thing on his mind. Another off his back.

Lukas thought he understood the changes in temperament. This was a difficult time for Monika as well. He was sure as hell she didn’t plan on having a child at their age—she never discussed it before at least—or out of wedlock. But, she always seemed to pick fights, the kinds he couldn’t walk away from unless he physically was out the door.

“Do you think this is a joke?!” She accused one day, eyes narrow and mad.

“No.” He actually thought his entire _life_ was a joke with a punch line so big, he hoped it was worth it.

“Then, _why_ haven’t you gotten the damn crib put together?! I told you so many times. It needs to be ready. Are you so stupid that—”

Her rant had ended prematurely with her eyes widened and her flying to their restroom, one hand on her mouth and the other damningly never leaving her stomach. She sent him away with another demand, and away he went.

He hadn’t even realized he’d gone to Bastian’s apartment the first time; he had been on autopilot.

He came back to his own house two hours late with Monika’s half-melted ice cream and her screaming and crying at him to both leave and never leave again as she held herself against the doorframe of the restroom.

He went to her side uncertainly.

Lukas wasn’t used to any of it. The waiting on others. The not succeeding. The seeking comfort somewhere other than his home.

Their neighbors often complained of their verbal sparring, and more and more Lukas had gone ‘out for walks’ to avoid any further escalation; his feet generally knew where to take him to lick his wounds and find a break from reality.

However, when Louis was born, and Lukas held the tiny life in his hands, Lukas realized he had come to terms with being very unhappy with his life. And, as soon as the emotion was identified, he felt it fade away. It wasn’t possible to be unhappy when this child—his son, _Louis_ —was holding onto his finger like he was the only one who could possibly protect and cherish him.

After his birth, Lukas was actually happy to go home and spent much time there.

He was fascinated by Louis, and Monika was no longer yelling at him, back to her old self and almost meek in his presence.

And, it was during his reinstatement into the first team that Lukas’ happiness was again at risk.

“Congratulations,” Bastian said with a curl of his lip, greeting him at practice.

“Schweini.”

In truth, he had forgotten he’d be rejoining Bastian again until that morning. After Louis’ birth, he hadn’t had much time for Bastian, a stark contrast to the time leading up to his birth.

Lukas didn’t think he had any expectation of what was going to happen with Bastian after he rejoined the first team. Or even, he hadn’t much expectations before that either. His position on their relationship was always so up in the air and never really real to him.

At first, he hadn’t wanted to give it thought. Now, he hadn’t had the time.

“Congratulations,” he repeated, softer.

Later, standing together at the train station yet again, Bastian whispered, “I missed you.”

Lukas didn’t reply then. Bastian deserved more than false platitudes. But, as he stood there, he felt the sentiment rang true. He hadn’t had time to miss Bastian before, but as time caught up to him, he felt the ache calling to him. “I missed you, too.”

It seemed to have been what Bastian was waiting for, and he took a few steps toward him.

“So? Do you have pictures?”

He nodded, pulling out the photos he had developed to carry with him in his wallet for opportunities such as these, to show off his proudest accomplishment.

“So it’s true,” he began slowly, taking his wallet in hand to hold it himself. “They really do come out all wrinkly.”

Lukas let out a bark of laughter. “Yeah. That was when he was just born. He’s a lot less wrinkly now.” He turned to the next picture of Louis, watching the expression in his features change. “That’s a more recent one.”

“That’s better,” he said offhandedly, but Lukas wasn’t fooled.

Lukas had been affected the same way. He let him look for a few moments more before taking his wallet back.

Carefully, he cleared his throat and touched Bastian’s shoulder to get his attention. When his eyes met his, he thought they both understood each other then than they had in all their years together.

“No,” Bastian mumbled numbly, grabbing onto his hand. He stared imploringly into Lukas’ eyes; the glossiness of his eyes made them shine brighter.

Of course, that didn’t mean things had to go smoothly.

Lukas swallowed thickly, tasting sourness. He put his hand over Bastian’s and squeezed it.

“I have a family now, Schweini.”

“Tchh. Fine.” He jerked his hand away to escape, but he felt it tremble.

“Schweini, wait.”

“For what? I’m fine. See you later, man.”

Lukas swore, but he didn’t do anything to stop him.

The betrayal that came later was all the more confusing, yet not impossible.

That fucking bastard wanted him to find out, wanted him to get mad. Well, now, he was furious.

Not even a week later, Lukas had found a man’s watch in his and Monika’s shared bedroom and easily identified it as Bastian’s.

Other than the first time, Bastian had never stepped foot inside Lukas’ apartment.

There may have been a few possible _innocent_ explanations for its appearance in that particular location, but Monika was never a good liar, unlike him. When he had confronted her with the watch, he hadn’t had to say more than where he had found it, and the fear and regret that washed over her face was enough.

She tried to stop him, futilely pulled at him. When that didn’t work, she screamed at him.

“Don’t you dare, Lukas. Don’t you dare do anything to him. Nothing happened!”

His face screwed up in pain. “You fucked him.” He stepped toward her menacingly.

“You can’t go over there and hurt him. It’s not his fault.”

“Which is it? Nothing happened? Or it’s not his fault?”

“Both! What’s the difference?”

He eyed her suspiciously. “How long has this been going on?”

“What?”

“How long have you two been going around behind my back? Making me look like an idiot?”

“Nothing happened.”

“This is his watch, Monika. His fucking watch. In our bedroom.”

“That’s because—”

“Because nothing happened?! In the fucking bedroom, Monika!” He was louder than before.

“Nothing did happen! Please, Lukas. Please believe me.”

“I can’t. I can’t. How long has this been going on?”

“Lukas, please.”

“Tell me.”

“Promise me you won’t go over there.”

Without hesitation, he agreed in clipped tones, “Fine. Tell me.”

“Promise.”

“I promise.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Monika,” he said more calmly. “I promise.”

She bit her lip in worry. He once found it an endearing quirk of hers, but now he found it irritating, and he wanted to do nothing more than pry her mouth open and spill out all the lies until he found the truths he was looking for.

He counted to ten again and again as he waited for her to confess in order to keep himself contained.

“Something happened—”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes or perhaps even wring her neck.

“—but it was this one time. Only this once. Please believe me, Lukas,” she pleaded.

“Why him?”

“What?”

“Why him?”

“I was lonely. Why else? I know it doesn’t excuse my behavior, but, Lukas, you hadn’t given me the time of day since—”

“No.” He prompted her again. “Why _him_?”

Monika’s watery eyes opened and the tears fell. Hysterically, she asked, “Why him? Why do you care? What? Are you angry at me because I cheated or because it was with him?”

He didn’t react in time, so caught off guard at being caught. “No—,” he tried anyway.

“Oh, my God. It is, isn’t it? It’s him. That’s why it matter to you?” Her hands dropped to her sides, letting go of him completely, but as she dropped her hands, she raised a finger in accusation. “Maybe if it was the grocer,” she said mirthlessly. “I always thought—oh, my God—I always thought you were close, but—” She couldn’t finish her sentence, mouth open in shock like she was physically unable to.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he intoned, keeping his voice low even with his calm gone.

“You’re so fucking transparent. I—”

He could see the wheels turning in her head.

“—so transparent even he’d think—No, he _knew_. And, you two… you two... You two used me for your sick—Ahh!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, bringing their fight to peaking crescendo of pain until a quieter but clearer cry from deep inside the house rooted them in their places and reminded them where they were.

Clenching his fists, Lukas hissed in a hushed voice, “You slept with him while our child was in the other room?”

She looked repentant again then—like another Monika he remembered—, and he was out the door and at Bastian’s in a blink.

The bastard probably expected him but still opened the door.

“I know what you did,” Lukas said shakily, holding Bastian by the front of his shirt and forcing his way in.

Bastian tried to laugh it off. “Told you before. Rough is fun but not too rough.”

He growled at him and threw him back where he fell. He paced in front of him. He didn’t know what to do. It was Bastian, wasn’t it?

He stared at him still not knowing just who exactly he was looking at.

From the ground, the man in question crossed his arms behind his head and closed his eyes as if to rest. “What’d she tell you?”

“That you two slept together once. Is that true?”

“Yep. Did she tell you how?”

Trying to be flippant and untouched too late at this stage, he said, “I know _how_.”

“No, I don’t think you do.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I talked her into it.”

He felt suckerpunched, the air taken from his lungs so forcefully. He hadn’t considered that. “Stand up,” he ordered.

“Why?” Bastian asked, despite already swaying onto his feet.

Fast, Lukas punched him, a right hook straight across his jaw.

“Fuck!” He exclaimed. He was on the floor again. Feeling the side of his face, he glared defiantly at Lukas but didn’t retaliate.

“Why, Schweini? Why?”

“I was bored,” he spat. “You weren’t there, so I chose the next thing to you. Not the next best, but the next closest. You know how it is.”

“You asshole.”

“You’re the asshole!”

“How? Did I screw _your_ girlfriend somehow?”

“Hard to screw yourself, isn’t it?” He asked cheekily.

“Bastian.”

He sat up and held his head in his hands. “You left me again! You said you wouldn’t.”

Lukas couldn’t believe it. He thought they understood each other. “I have Monika, Schweini!” He reminded himself, “And you have Sarah… Why don’t you get it? You should get it!”

“Because you don’t get it! All that is _different_.”

“How?”

“How do you explain coming to me when you have Monika, or so you keep telling me?”

“I…”

“Can’t. You can’t, right? That’s because you don’t get it.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, pausing. “I have a son now.”

“I saw. Looks just like you, too. So, what?”

“Do you hear yourself?”

“Do you?”

At a loss, he gave up. Without any real meaning, he warned, “Never pull stupid shit like this again.”

He punched the wall as he left the apartment. Even when he was in a rage, he wanted to reach out to Bastian.

.

Once the transfer window opened, someone asked him about ‘schweinski’ again amidst the rumors of him leaving Bayern.

It brought back memories of him and Bastian when it was still him and Bastian.

Tobias had once said that it may have been his fault that Bastian played things so close to the chest and turned out the way he did.

It wasn’t a complete secret that the older Schweinsteiger brother was gay; it just wasn’t something that went around. Those who knew, knew, and those who didn’t, didn’t.

However, Tobias suspected that the homophobic atmosphere in football was what stopped his career advancement. He figured Bastian had concluded the same and kept his personal life more private than Tobias did because his dream had been to play football. Not that he was implying anything about his brother. It was unfair, but he probably felt that having his dream taken away because of his personal life wasn't worth it.

More than that, Bastian usually wasn’t very serious either, never keeping a girl around for long until Sarah apparently. So, it would have been something of note if Bastian were to ever, say, put that at risk by even sticking close to someone else that could lead to rumors.

At the time, Lukas had asked him why he felt the need to tell him that, and Tobias never really answered him.

Tobias just said it was because he just thought he should know.

.

Lukas was set to transfer back to Cologne soon after his second chance on Bayern’s first team was squandered, spent avoiding Bastian and not making enough of an effort to care that he was ruining his career with them.

By the time the papers had been signed­ and sealed, Bastian showed up at his door like an apparition.

He willfully forced himself to remember the last time he’d seen Bastian in order to tamper down his joy at seeing him.

Cutting between the two of them and interrupting their quasi-moment, Monika pointedly ignored Bastian and gave Lukas a look as if to tell him that he knew he shouldn’t but she knew he would anyway. She went so far as to take Louis away with her.

She wasn’t too far off. That is to say, she wasn’t wrong at all.

Even though he knew he should be angry at Bastian, especially as he so casually came back into his home after what he’d done, he allowed Bastian to lead him to the couch; Lukas had steered him clear of the bedroom.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“Do you?”

Pressing his palms flat against his chest, Bastian lifted himself up and mocking or not, he stated so inconsequentially that it hadn’t registered to Lukas at all until he felt himself mouthing the words himself. Bastian lowered himself again, tucking his elbows on either side of Lukas’ face, and kissed him. He took his time, drawing out his fire.

If Lukas knew he would leave once they broke apart, then he might have done his part in prolonging it.

Lukas didn’t linger for long, however. He took a long shower, stepping out only as he heard Monika at the front door, knocking loudly as if to scare away the ghosts.

Even as he came out fully dressed and alone, he felt Monika’s disappointment, almost choking on it.

“We’ll forget this ever happened,” she announced, walking swiftly past him to Louis’ room.

He knew she meant Bastian, but he knew she also meant that their entire ordeal at Bayern, too. There was nothing but bad memories for the both of them now forever associated with Munich. To think, they hadn’t even stepped inside the city much together, both preferring Cologne.

That night, she shoved him away and hit him as he tried to comfort her through her heaving sobs.

“Why don’t you want me anymore? Why are you like this? What does he have that I don’t? What’s wrong with me?”

 _Why him_?

“I’m sorry,” he said into her hair, brushing it with his fingers to calm her. “I’m sorry.”

Without telling their families until the day of the move, the two bought a slightly larger house in the same area. It hardly made it up to her, but he did as best he could.

.


	5. PART V

Moving away turned out to be as inconsequential as staying put when Lukas considered that they were travelling on the same road to the World Cup in 2010.

They had fought to win third that year. Again. And, the similarities ended there.

He hadn’t even been able to play in their last game, a bitter victory for sure.

And unlike their first World Cup debut, the fond moments between them were few and almost completely accidental. Lukas hadn’t been the only one to try to actively create a distance, which was why he was surprised to find Bastian outside his door the night of their last match.

Lukas had been alone in his room, and the door knob twisted and turned, the lock keeping it from opening. It was enough to disturb him from his troubled introspection, and he carelessly opened the door to see who it was. Perhaps, if he had checked the peephole, then he might have gone back to his bed. Perhaps, not.

“Basti? What are you doing here?” He’d gotten used to calling him that now. After Lukas ran away from Bayern to Cologne, Bastian had become 'Basti.' 'Schweini' seemed too intimate and dangerous when Lukas didn’t want to call up memories. And, 'Bastian' was entirely too formal; it’d raise suspicion. Not that they hadn’t already. They had both been badgered by questions regarding their rocky friendship and supposed split, but they both said nothing.

“Can I come in?”

Lukas nodded, letting him in. It had been dark in his room, and he hadn’t seen it before he flicked the lights on. There was a wetness to Bastian’s face. Immediately, he turned the lights back off and cleared his throat, shutting the door behind them.

Pinning Bastian beneath him after so long, he was sure Bastian had learned a couple of new tricks, and it ate away at him, prematurely cutting short the sweetness of the afterglow when they lied spent on his bed, catching their breath.

They were essentially nothing, but it left him feeling hollow. Lukas knew he learned it from someone else. He wondered who. He wondered how many.

.

After the 2010 World Cup, it became clear that it wasn’t enough that they were in different cities.

Bastian’s presence haunted him even with that night long gone.

He stayed with Cologne for two more seasons out of loyalty, making sure they would be better off without him, before going to London to join Arsenal alone.

.

There was little that any of Jogi’s players could hide from him, their surrogate father, or so Lukas thought. Jogi had been looking out for him for so long.

However, with the upcoming 2014 World Cup, Lukas was, for the first time, unconfident about being chosen for the team. He hadn’t been playing as much as he would’ve liked at Arsenal, and his thigh ached when he tried to play his normal best. The injury was worse than he let on, and he kept it even quieter even after Jogi officially chose him as part of the team, but he was sure he knew.

Just like he was sure a handful of his other teammates knew.

As for the younger players, they never had really had a chance to see him play in person or work with him for such a prolonged period of time, so it was different, probably a little disappointing.

Lukas tried not to dwell on that.

Bastian took up much of his time anyway now that they had called a truce of sorts.

Before they had gotten on the plane to Brazil, Bastian had taken him aside and apologized. He looked sincere and repentant, so much so that he hadn’t asked Bastian to elaborate.

“Do you think we can start over?” Bastian asked when Lukas did nothing but shift awkwardly in front of him.

“Can we?”

“I want to.”

“Then, yeah, Basti. That’d be nice.”

“Come on, Luki. You know better than that,” he admonished, breaking out in a familiar smile. “It’s ‘Schweini.’”

He teased back, “Are you sure? Didn’t you whine about people calling you that a while back? You even told everyone to stop.”

“Shut up. You know you’re not everyone.”

“Course.”

On the plane, Lukas felt like they were being sent back ten years, like he was flying all on his own. Without the weight of their history, he felt like he really could. He didn’t think it’d be that simple, but he hadn’t tried either.

Then, a few months down the road, filled with intimate moments and playful gestures, when they finally won after trying for over a decade, Lukas felt everything was so possible in that atmosphere, like everything was within reach, and all he had to do was hold out his hand and take it.

So, he took it.

That night, after all the drinking and dancing, most people had passed out or turned in. They were neither.

With a clear mind, Lukas led Bastian stumbling back to his room and to his bed.

“Are you sure?” Bastian had asked him anxiously, lying on his back and staring up at him. His hand lay hovering over his. “You have to be sure.”

“I’m sure,” he replied. He took his hand and lifted it, brushed his lips across the knuckles.

He kneeled onto the bed, balancing precariously on the edge to throw off his shirt before Bastian wrapped his arms around his waist and eased him down over him. It seemed Bastian was more efficient than he and was already down to his underwear, more confident than his words had led him to believe.

Leaning on his elbows, Lukas started from below his navel and kissed his way up to his sweet tinted lips, flavored by the alcohol he had consumed throughout the entire night. He paid particular attention to the long column of his neck, making sure not to leave bruises but running his tongue over the sensitive spots again and again until he moved onto the next and did the same.

Bastian twitched and flexed as he explored him, like it was their first time even when it was far from it.

His movements were slow and deliberate, and Bastian had no complaints, responding to his languid touches with his own, breathing heavy, legs lazily tangling.

They were both past the age where quickies were commonplace and expected.

Lukas carded his fingers through his short hair, missing the length from before.

Bastian seemed to know exactly what he was thinking and effectively cut the train of thought short. “It’ll grow. I’ll grow it out.” _For you_ , was implied.

In response, he took his time and played his hair some more, massaging his scalp and tugging at the strands while he kept their mouths busy.

They broke for air some time long past wise, having seen black circles grow and shrink beneath his eyelids, and he grinned down at the spotted sight that Bastian made. He marveled at the natural grey locks at the sides. He couldn’t feel the difference. The fading moonlight and early hints of dawn made them sparkle as they took on a more pastel hue.

When Bastian caught him staring, he returned his gaze and wondered what Bastian saw when he looked at him. He hoped it was as favorable as when he looked at Bastian. If the happy crinkles around Bastian’s eyes were any indication, it was, and Lukas’ let out a short laugh before kissing him there in appreciation.

Brushing his hair back, his other hand found Bastian’s and squeezed it, holding it as he traced along the flat planes of his stomach, coming to trace two or three more times before dipping into Bastian’s boxers. Carefully, he wrapped Bastian’s hand around the already sticky hardness he found there and covered it with his own.

Bastian’s hips pushed up reflexively, and Lukas teased him by tightening his grip and giving him a small jerk, as if he had waiting for that particular signal. Bastian panted as their hands worked faster, bit his lip as he pressed his own erection against him, choked when Lukas ran a thumb over his tip.

Moving more swiftly, Lukas sat up. He told Bastian to keep going when he paused in confusion, undressing the both of them to show his intent. As soon as he dragged Bastian’s boxers down and off, he pulled him over his lap, legs coming up around him, slung low on his waist.

Bastian let out a deep breath when Lukas’ hands came to rest against his hips, rubbing the soft, warm flesh just below where his hip bones curved outward.

He watched as Bastian continued touching himself and asked in honest curiosity, “You ever think of me when you do that?”

“Most of the time.”

“And the rest?”

Bastian hummed ambiguously and took Lukas in his hand in response, stroking them together.

Lukas shuddered in pleasure and brought his fingers up to Bastian’s mouth.

Bastian held Lukas’ fingers and licked them dutifully, tasting himself and coating them with his saliva in turn.

Lukas’ eyes stared enviously as Bastian put on a show for him.

Bastian’s sucked at his fingers, and he pretended to be having all too much fun as he wet them, giving off small moans for an added effect. He winked at Lukas as he released his fingers with a small pop, grinning as he met Lukas’ eyes once more.

Pulling Bastian’s hips closer, Lukas withdrew his hand from him and used it to reach around his ass. He massaged it for a time before squeezing it, enjoying the indignant huff of noise Bastian emitted. While Bastian was distracted, he took the opportunity to turn the indignity to something more pleasant.

Bastian emit happier tones and squirmed at his touch, as if he hadn’t been touched in a long time.

They’d have to forgo the lube this time, he thought. He hadn’t had the clairvoyance to bring any, but the look Bastian met him with seemed to say that this was as good as they were going to get, and he was ready.

Bastian gripped the sheets with his other hand, grunting and gasping as Lukas slowly filled him, feeling each muscle and twitch.

Saddened by the pained noises that were coming from Bastian, Lukas started to rub the muscles small of his back and kiss him, hoping to give him some comfort while he stretched him. He didn’t dare move until Bastian tightened his legs around his waist, moving to bring him closer.

Lukas hesitantly complied but still moved at a fractured pace.

“Faster.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m okay. Faster.”

Reluctantly, he built up a compromised rhythm with Bastian, feeling a familiar sensation culminating deep below his navel.

He broke out in a sheen of sweat as he fought the urge to fuck Bastian until he was branded with his dick.

Bastian Schweinsteiger’s ass, Property of Lukas Podolski, thanks very much.

Lifting Bastian’s leg higher, he fucked him deeper, almost blinded by the bursts of hot energy with each thrust. Smirking, he felt Bastian’s body vibrate with pleasure as he tried to keep silent.

Soon, Bastian’s hand stilled, and Lukas knew he was close, too sensitive to continue but enjoying himself too much to tell Lukas what he wanted. Both his hands were tangled up in the sheets above his head.

Fortunately, Lukas had enough experience to know how to handle Bastian.

Hands under Bastian’s shoulders, Lukas scored his nails down his back to bring him back and kissed him to capture the sharp gasp he let out.

Bastian nipped at Lukas’ lips in protest, but he kept his legs locked around Lukas’ waist, keeping him from pulling away even if he wanted to.

Slipping his hand between them again, Lukas stroked him lightly, not wanting to hurt him. Even as Bastian was restless beneath him, he practiced his control. Steadily, he withdrew until just his tip was pressing into him.

Bastian tensed and held his breath.

Kissing him, he brushed the side of his face with his palm and thrust deeply and satisfyingly. His heart beat fast and full, and he repeated the motions until he coaxed and dragged Bastian into heady release with him, come spilling onto his stomach as Lukas spilled within him with a tremendous shake and sigh. He hadn’t known he had been holding his breath as well until he was hit with a forceful lightheadedness.

Battling that and his soreness, he staggered to the adjoining restroom for towels to clean them both up. The hot water feeling good against his skin.

He took great care in cleaning Bastian as well, holding his hand as he cleaned him with the other.

When he woke up, he found the ethereal stretches of early dawn bore retreat from the more honest sunlight, making it obvious that he was alone.

.

He was unhappy again. Coming home to Cologne and  coming home to his family wasn’t the same anymore. Rather, it wasn’t that he was unhappy, but he just wasn't feeling like he usually did before when he got to come back. Things were the same, but they didn’t feel the same anymore. For so long, he’d been able to come and go and still be able to slip in so easily, like time had stopped until he came back. Of course, he knew it wasn’t true; Louis’ growth during those intermittent periods was proof of that.

Monika seemed to notice his agitation and restiveness as well. She had to have seen the pictures of him with Bastian. It was hard to ignore, considering he had posted some of the as well.

He knew she was keeping an eye on him then, the trust gone.

She was wasting her time, unfortunately for her.

He hadn’t heard from Bastian in weeks. Not directly. He, too, had kept tabs as best he could without being obsessive through social media and the news. It wasn’t hard; journalists and paparazzi alike harassed them to no end after they won the Cup.

Holed up in his room while Monika and Louis were out sightseeing, he went to the market for some beer. He didn’t pay attention to whichever he grabbed. He wasn’t drinking it for its taste.

Sometime between his first and tenth beer, he sent a very stupid and very public message via his Twitter.

Almost immediately, his phone rang, and his hands flew to cover his ears and block out the damned noise. When it kept ringing, he had no choice but to pick up his phone from where he dropped it when it first rang. Through his bleary eyes, he saw Bastian’s caller ID over the screen, and his stomach sank to his toes.

Taking a deep breath, he greeted, laughing, “I’ve been drinking about you.” His voice had been rough with abuse and self-hatred.

He could hear a raucous party in the background from wherever Bastian was celebrating his birthday—Ibiza—during the pause before he answered, “You’re drunk?”

“No.” He lifted another can to his lips. “But, night’s not over yet.”

“So?” It was the first time they’d talked, and he didn’t think to contact him before.

“Happy Birthday. Did you get my message?”

“Yeah. I got it… Is there anything else you wanted say?”

“No.”

“… Then, if you’re done, maybe you should listen. I don’t want to talk to you, Lukas.”

“Schweini—”

“I don’t want to talk to you, but I don’t want to stop talking to you either. Ten years. For ten years, you hurt me.”

“I didn’t—”

“Quiet, Lukas. You’re supposed to be listening. I know. I know you didn’t mean to, but it wasn’t fucking easy anyway. It was my fault. I was stupid and in love, and I thought I could make you realize you loved me, too. Then, all that shit happened. I’m sorry about that, you know. Really sorry. But then, I thought we could start over, and you agreed, and I was really happy. That night. I was really happy.”

“If you were so happy, then why’d you leave?”

“I didn’t think I could win against your family.”

“You had a girlfriend, too.”

“She was a girl who was a friend and could keep a secret. It’s already been seven years. I’m not that selfish. It’s over.”

“What are you saying? It wasn’t real?”

“I’m saying… if you ever wanted a chance. Here it is.”

He clutched his phone in his hand, knuckles white.

“I figured. Bye, Luki… Goodbye, Lukas.”

The dial tone pulsed and rang through his head before he could wrap his head around what Bastian was offering him. He hadn’t left that morning. He had run away because he was afraid of Lukas not making the right choice—not choosing him. Honestly, confronted with the choice, Lukas knew he would’ve chosen his family then, and Bastian gifted him with an easy way out. Except, he still hurt. He thought Bastian was lost to him forever then. And now, he really felt it again, truly.

He didn’t hear from Bastian after that. No word of support. No sign of acknowledgment. It made it that much tougher. He just wanted to play. If he didn’t have Bastian, couldn’t be happy with his family, then he at least had football.

Even then, he had to give it up. Jogi couldn’t protect him forever. So, he announced his retirement to bow out gracefully rather than force Jogi to give him the boot.

He’d been fucking up all his chances, and he knew. The setbacks. His loss of form that never quite came back how he wanted. The lack of confidence. When he started out, all he wanted to do was play for the love of the game. He loved to make his family and the fans proud, but he had come to dread letting them down.

When he scored his forty eighth goal for Germany in the friendly against Australia, he was able to breathe for the briefest second. He knew he wouldn’t be able to break the record like Miro had done, but he was willing to settle. It was a good number. He had a good career.

By the time his loan at Inter Milan had come and gone with little progress, he was ready to go anywhere that helped him hurt less.

Galatasaray had seemed like a good option. They had been asking after him for more than a couple seasons, and they had a good record to go along with their history. More importantly, it seemed far enough that perhaps, this time, distance would work.

After the end of his last season with Arsenal and before the next season with Galatasaray, Lukas spent his vacation in Cologne, a place where he had once been so comfortable. Now, he came back out of habit and necessity for than anything. His family was here, and he’d been calling it home for so long.

On his thirtieth birthday, he had breakfast with Monika and Louis, lunch with his parents, and dinner with some friends.

It was after midnight in every time zone and officially no longer his birthday when he finally allowed himself to check his phone. The darkness of the room he locked himself in helped to hide his disappointment. It had been nearly a year since his phone conversation with Bastian, so perhaps it was to be expected.

Bastian hadn’t sent anything more than an impersonal and generic birthday wish from his Twitter account.

Lukas was sure it hadn’t even been him who sent it.

He didn’t need the alcohol that time to convince him to reach out to Bastian; his anger stood in for where his pride once was.

As soon as the line picked up, he croaked out, “Where are you?”

“With my fiancée.”

He could feel the intent behind his words. He meant it to cutting and clear. “Liar,” he accused. Then, he pointed out, “It’s not my birthday anymore.”

“You’re right.”

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“I’m not doing anything.”

"Are you ever going to tell me anything?"

"There's nothing to tell."

“You’re engaged.”

“Somehow, I doubt that's what you've been waiting to hear from me, but yes. I'm engaged. She makes me happy enough.”

“Enough?”

“I’m just being honest. You know what I mean.”

“Tell me.”

“She’s not you, but she can love me.”

“Does she know? Did you tell her about us?”

“No. You planning to tell her?”

“No. Are you really happy with her?”

“Yeah. Are you happy?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Have you figured out what you wanted?”

“I don’t know.”

“Nothing?”

“I don’t know. I just want to know how this happened? Between us, I mean.”

“I don’t know. Blame me. I’m sorry.”

“Is this how we’re ending it?”

“We already ended it, I think. It’s ended… Until you want to change it.”

“Until I want to change it?”

“It’s all up to you. It has been. You know that. Don’t tell me you don’t.”

“I didn’t. I didn’t know anything.”

“Then, you do now. You had me. The entire time. You have me. When you decide what you want...”

“You’d be willing to give up everything just for me?”

“I’ve always been. Will you?”

“I—I can’t.”

“Then, we don’t really have anything to talk about. Have a good life, Lukas. Good luck at Galatasaray.”

“Thanks.”

“Bye… Luki.”

His name was tacked on like an afterthought, but he couldn’t seem to let go.

Still, Bastian had been a one night stand kind of mistake that went on for far too long, but so was he.

.

**Author's Note:**

> Writing it, I realize Bastian’s side really needs to be done as well, but for now, just leave any comments or questions, and I’ll answer those because I’m almost certain Bastian’s story will not be written considering it took me months to get through this one. You know what would be equally interesting is Monika’s perspective on all of this. How much did she know, and why did she stay?


End file.
